Broken Yet Unbreakable
by Curious Calamity
Summary: He thinks, thinks of how everything had gone so wrong - so horribly wrong all because of him. He thought about how he had failed All Might, how his actions could have very well lead to the death of the symbol of peace- his hero, all because of his stupid pride. But mostly, he thought about Kirishima. - In which Bakugou realizes that nightmares fucking suck.


_**A/n: I wrote this a year ago. Check out my ao3 (Sutomi) for all my other bnha stuff. **_

_**Please review! It makes my day and inspires me to keep writing!**_

_**I hope you enjoy!**_

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Then there were the nightmares. Dreams are never the same in real life. In those shitty movies Pikachu and Raccoon Eyes always forced him to watch, the characters jolted up, sometimes with a scream, sometimes with heavy breathing, but nothingless, something happened.

It's never like that.

In real life, you open your eyes, taking in the darkness of the room around you, breathing heavily as you try to regain your bearings. It's silent, the kind of silence that weighs heavy, pressing down on you, constricting your every attempt at breath.

In movies, there's always a distraction, something to take the characters mind off such thoughts. In reality, there's nothing but a grim acceptance. But this time, when Bakugou's eyes fluttered open, he knew it wasn't a dream.

It was a nightmare.

He stood in the middle of a courtyard of sorts, watching from the sidelines. Buildings were collapsed around them, their rubble scattered at his feet.

Bakugou didn't have any time to think about the people who might have lived there, and what might have been their fate. Fuck, he didn't want to think about it; his failure to protect people.

But it was hard not to think of failure when, in front of him, were two people he never wished to see in this position. All Might was kneeled over, blood rushing past his lips as he heaved out one final breath, going limp with a smirking All For One with his foot on his back. Wasn't he supposed to be a hero? His knees shook from where he stood, but he couldn't find it in himself to chide himself for being weak, the feeling of his heart racing is pure adrenaline. His hands were twitching at his sides, a cold sweat breaking out across his palms.

His head was pounding, his heart echoing in his ears, each quick and fluttering pound beating down on him. No- that couldn't be his own heart. It couldn't be him that was breathing in quick and ragged breaths, each and every shallow inhale causing the pounding within his mind to grow louder and louder.

No- the pounding- something that had grown to be near deafening in his shocked state- had to be from his explosions. The feeling in his throat has to be the lack of air being brought into his lungs. The clenching he's feeling in his chest is his own explosions, something he's ready to release the moment his body let's him fucking move. All of this- these feelings, had to be because of his sheer resolve to fight, right? There was no way in hell that he could ever succumb to something as stupid as fear.

He took in a shaky breath, and all Bakugou could see was red. The color of the fire that raged within his veins, the color of blood that was splattered across the motionless body before him, the color of the terror and disgust that calm with that fact that he knew- that everything was his fault, that All Might was dead, all because of him. He can't be scared. He is not scared- He's terrified.

Fuck, if only he had taken Kirishima's hand. if only he hadn't been so fucking weak- so fucking prideful, maybe this wouldn't have happened. All for One turns to him, and Bakugou knows that he's smirking, even under that stupid mask. Fuck, fuck, fuck! His palm twitches, and Bakugou feels a few tiny explosions come from them, but nothing enough to actually do damage.

He can't move, can't breathe, can't even think, his entire body frozen because of the monster towering over him- All Might. Blood is spattered across the floor in front of him, a mixture of his own, All Might's, and all the victims of tonight. It was hauntingly pretty, the rich velvet standing against such dark, monochromatic pieces of rubble, all of which were lit up by the silvery light the moon.

The moon was full, which is something that Bakugou couldn't help but notice. It was something gorgeous; an art piece that someone could describe it as if they were to be blessed by the sight of it. However, such beauty only shrouded the sight of the danger within. His body ached, not just for relief, but to disappear. The damage was great, not just to him, but to the whole world; the loss too significant, too damning, in ways that everyone would be affected.

In all his days of fighting, of training, of wishing and hoping, Bakugou never would have thought that it would he who would lose- Deku maybe, but never him. Now, here he was hands shaking as his hero died in front of him, unable to even move- his body paralyzed by his fucking fear.

Weak. Pathetic.

Bakugo Katsuki isn't the type to give up, but fuck, with all might gone, all because of him, what's the fucking point of becoming a hero? And then, there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned, mind unfocused as he looked up at the figure behind him.

A chapped smile was looking down at him, a sickening expression in those crazy eyes that set Bakugou on edge. Yet no matter what he did, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe- everything around him was too constricting, like it was crushing in on him from all sides.

As if a hand was wrapped around his neck.

Shigaraki had somehow placed 4 fingers around Bakugou's throat while he was in a daze, cursing Bakugou to curse himself for being unaware of such. Shigaraki turned Bakugou away from his view of All night and all for one, pushing him up against a large piece of rubble- a sign that was too destroyed to read.

"All Might is dead. That's certainly handy." Shigaraki smirked, his yellow teeth and foul breath making Bakugou shy away from his split lips.

"Fuck you." He glares at the villain, red eyes narrowed in nothing other than hatred. He raises his palms up slowly, not breaking eye contact so he wouldn't bring attention to his hands.

The hand was still wrapped around his neck, the index finger only an inch or so off his skin. If it were to touch him, god- he would be so fucked. But, life isn't fair, for he's held there, trapped against his will. And he still can't fucking move.

Shigaraki tsked, and, with no hesitation, pushed Bakugou to the ground, ignoring his hiss of pain when his previously raised hand snaps in an awkward angle from out underneath his twisted body.

"You really think I wouldn't have noticed?" Shigaraki chuckles, shaking his head as he shoved Bakugou's head into the ground. Bakugou winced as he felt the sharp pieces of rubble dig in to his cheek, but he didn't speak, eyes still meeting Shigaraki's in a silent challenge.

"It's too bad; you had so much promise." Shigaraki whispered the words in his ear, making Bakugou shudder. From behind him, Bakugou could image Shigarakis hand reaching closer and closer- but fuck, he couldn't do anything- he couldn't move.

"Eat a dick," he growled, somehow finding it in himself to spit in Shigaraki's face. Shigaraki only grinned wider, his fingers coming to a tighter close around Bakugous neck.

And suddenly, he was screaming. Skin chipped off his neck at an alarming rate, and he could feel the blood rushing down his neck as his skin was melted away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn't handle this for much longer. Fuck, he couldn't breathe.

Not taking a second to think, He stuck out his palm, ignoring the odd angle in which it was set at, and fired. Flames ignited from his palms, the sheen of sweat on his hands catching ablaze quickly, colliding directly with Shigaraki. With a surprised yell, Shigaraki flung Bakugou to the ground, flinching back from the burst of flame as it erupted from the other boys hands.

He choked as he hit the ground, back slamming into the hard concrete below, but he had to go- had to move.

Trying his best to ignore the large, limp figure of All Might laying not too far away from him, Bakugou stumbled to his feet, ready to fucking dart out of there. From behind him, Shigaraki groaned, scratching at his neck as he rose to his feet. Even with that ugly hand thing covering his face, Bakugou could tell he was pissed.

He needed to get out of there. Now. All too suddenly, a barrier of flames blocked his exit, causing Bakugou to stumble to a halt before he was burnt to a crisp.

"For fucks sake. Shigaraki, just finish him already." In front of him was the black haired fucker- the one with those ugly, mutilated pieces of flesh along his neck and eyes. Bakugou growled at him, raising his fists menacingly.

2 on 1 weren't great odds for him, but he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki. He could kick ass ever since he got this fucking quirk. Even with a broken hand, a scarred and bloody neck, and his stupid, shaky legs, there's no way in hell that he wasn't going out with a fight.

But, just as he raised his fists to blast those fuckers into oblivion, a swarm of tentacles shot out from the side, catching bakugou by surprise as the latched around him. All too suddenly, Bakugou is reminded of that- that fucking slime monster. He chokes as the tentacles envelop him, thrashing and exploding as much as he possibly could while his hands were being bound up by those stupid things. Where they were coming from? Bakugou didn't know, but as they wrapped around his body, tightening with each struggle, Bakugou couldn't find it in himself to think, clawing and grabbing at the tentacles so they could just fuck off and let him fight.

Fuck, he just wants it to stop- all of it. He wants All Might back, he wants to be a good hero, he wants his friends- he wants Kirishima. He can't give up yet, not if it means that he'll never see them again- any of them. Reaching past the tentacles, he manages to open his eyes and see just who was doing this- just who was keeping him trapped here. All for one looks at them from the side, arms crossed against his chest. Even with the mask, Bakugou could tell that he was looking at him in contempt. God, he hoped the fucker would do nothing more than burn and rot in the hell that he belongs in. Shigaraki smirks as he seems to catch Bakugou's attention on All For One.

Bakugou couldn't hear them, but it seems as though Shigaraki ordered him to be brought back down, for, before he knew it, he was being slammed down into the concrete, his ribs cracking at the force in which he was thrown. Bakugou choked, tasting blood as he retched. Blood spattered across the ground in front of him, and he could only think about how this must have been what all might felt like- broken, empty, unable to do anything with a child in the way. Fuck. He really ruined everything, didn't he?

From his place on the ground, Bakugou could only muse about how quiet it was, even amidst all this destruction. It was as if no one had any more energy to scream, as if the ringing in his ears was mutual for all, as if the static in his head was a calm, alternate reality. Fuck, there he was, laying on the ground like a useless fucking child, only watching as Shigaraki came closer and closer, his fingers- all splayed out towards him. Fuck, he was going to die here, wasn't he?

"'Don't you dare say that you'd rather lose! You're you because you never give up on winning, right?'"

He could only smile bitterly as those words- Midoriya's- came back to mind. That idiot, if he were in this situation, none of this would have happened; he'd probably be in police custody right now, for he would have thought of a way out of this- all of it. God, when did someone so pathetic manage to get so far ahead of him? Maybe he was the pathetic one. Fuck, he might be pathetic, but no- there was no way in hell that he was ready to die yet. He pushed himself up, his broken arms shaking with effort as he forced himself on, trying to keep himself alive. But fuck- this hurt. But, he couldn't stop moving- if he did, the hand fucker would probably kill him. And then, there was a voice.

"Bakugou,"

He couldn't quite hear the whispered words, but his name flashed clearly within his mind as he stared at a figure a few yards away from him. He squinted to see the figure, but his vision swam, causing him to see nothing but red. And fuck, the blurred rubble and the blood running down his face did nothing to help. It wasn't one of the villains, Bakugou knew, for he wouldn't have felt that little clench in his chest as they spoke. The faint spark of hope in his chest ignited even brighter, and suddenly, he felt the strength return to his legs, and he could move. If he could get to this person, he would be okay. But he had to move.

"Bakugou!"

It was louder this time, as if the figure realized what was going on- what was happening. He watched the figures mouth move, a few other words being uttered before he was running. Honestly, it didn't feel real. It was as if he was walking through jello, each step dragged on and on, as if he wasn't moving at all. Fuck- he knew he was going slow, but he couldn't do anything else as more and more blood ran down his face, dribbling past his lips at every attempt at breath.

A figure appeared in front of him, then, and, though Bakugou couldn't tell if it was from the blood or not, but the figures hair was red- a color he knew, a color that seemed so right on that person. he could tell it was someone he knew, someone that he was comfortable with. But, in his daze of pain and adrenaline, Bakugou couldn't wrap his mind around it.

No, he blinked, looking to the back of him. Even if he was going as quick as he could, that Shigaraki fucker was still tailing him, seemingly walking as Bakugou dragged himself- trying to get farther and farther away with no actual results. The figure seemed to be running to him as well, but he didn't seem to get any closer. Time was slowed down for Bakugou, as if the colors that he had come to know had faded, and he was in one of those old, black and white horror films that his father loved. But he knew that this was happening- that this was reality, and not some shitty sitcom. Footsteps echoed throughout his mind- but they were not his own.

The figure looked up, red eyes full of worry as he ran. That face.. There was something about it that gave him courage, something that gave him hope, something that gave him stability, which were all feelings that countered his fear. it made him even more determined, even more willing to keep pushing on. Taking another step forward, he stumbled, catching his raggedy pants on a piece of debris that lay on the ground. But he didn't fall.

A hand held him up, one with all five closed around his arm. Bakugou clenched his eyes shut, waiting for it all to end- for his body to disintegrate to a pile of ash. But, nothing happened. He opened his eyes, blinking slightly as another face was looking into his own, one with worried red eyes, a mouth panting and showing his little fangs, and a head of red hair. It was all too familiar.

Kirishima.

His eyes widened as it all came back to him. He saw red, the color of his eyes as they met each other's in silent agreement, the color of his hair- the thing that he hated yet felt so endearing, the color of his stupid room- the one full of old Crimson Riot posters, the color of his cheeks as they tinted in that sappy, pinkish hue that bakugou loved to see, for he was the one that brought it up, after all. Their eyes met in a silent conversation, and Bakugou could tell that he was scared yet relieved at the same time.

Lips in a tired smile, Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, only pausing as his eyes widened at something Bakugou couldn't see. Bakugou numbly turned around, staring a smirking Shigaraki in the eye as the latter thrust his hand towards him, eager to take him out once and for all. And suddenly, Kirishima was in front of him, his skin hardened, prepared to take the hit for him as he wrapped his arms around Bakugou's back.

"No!"

But fuck, it wasn't enough.

Kirishima's anguished scream ripped through the ruins of the city as Shigaraki's hand pressed up against his back. Skin flaked away, leaving nothing but marred, bloody skin in its wake, Kirishima thrashed, trying his best to keep himself hardened, but the pain was too much as his muscle and skin were being burned away. Kirishima might be flaking away, but he never faltered his hold on Bakugou, willing to protect him for as long as he possibly could.

Once again, Bakugou couldn't move, finding himself frozen as he watched Kirishima- his best friend, his soulmate, fade away from in front of him.

"Eijirou!"

"Katsuki!"

He wakes to the sound of his name being called. Firm hands were on his shoulders as he was shook awake, a roughness to them at Bakugou could barely identify.

Cracking an eye open, Bakugou's eyes met nothing but red- another's eyes as they were widened with worry, the fall of his hair as it cascaded down his shoulders He frantically looked around, palms itching with the need to explode as he surveyed around his room, checking around for any signs of danger. There's a tightness in his chest that he can't shake off- the same tightness he felt when Kirishima had taken that hit for him and fuck- he had taken the hit for him. He was dead. He was fucking dead.

"Bakug- Katsuki, it's okay." Bakugou could barely look at the figure in front of him, chest heaving as he fought to regain his bearings. His room swayed, his dizziness brought on by his panic. Fuck, why was he letting that dream get the best of him?

An outstretched hand, enough to kill. Tentacles as they wrapped around him, constricting him, killing him. A motionless figure, blood welling up from underneath him. The blank eyes of his best friend, the feeling of emptiness when he went limp in his arms, the spatter of blood- his blood, as his skin flaked away. Bakugou choked in a breath, cradling his head in his hands. God, it was too much.

Was he breathing erratically? Katsuki didn't know, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn't shake off. His heart was pounding, "Hey," The voice said softly, tenderly, as a hand felt itself to Bakugou's jaw. Red eyes looked into his own, their worried gleam replaced with something more stable, more determined. "You need to breathe."

Kirishima

Fuck, of course it had to be him- that idiot. He was always worried for other more than he was himself. Shit, just what time was it? Bakugou had enough conscious to look over to his alarm clock, which, in bright red numbers, read: 2:30am. Shit, the fuck was he doing here? Why was he wasting his time coming to see him instead of sleeping? He really needs his sleep, especially because of his internship.

Bakugou took in a short, weak breath, feeling his chest shudder from the work it took. But, even if he really shouldn't be awake, Kirishima was alive and here with him, which is something Bakugou was thankful for. Bakugou felt his hand being taken into rough yet gentle ones. From there, Kirishima pressed Bakugou's hand to his chest, prying the clenched fingers apart.

"Like this," Kirishima said and inhaled, before releasing a long breath. Bakugou tried to follow him, wheezing pathetically, but none the less, he tried. Fuck, why was he so pathetic? Here he was, weak, legitimately wheezing, and tired. God, no one was supposed to see him when he was like this.

"Bakugou," Kirishima warned, as if sensing Bakugous displeasure. "You're not weak for this, man." Bakugou's head snapped up, mouth open, as if to speak, but all that exited was a weak shudder, followed by a few, quiet coughs. "I saw the look that you were giving me; you aren't exactly a discreet person," Kirishima smiled, watching Bakugou roll his eyes, as if he was saying 'you're the one to talk.' Well, yeah, Kirishima knows that he can be an open person, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't know what it's like to bottle up a few emotions.

"But really dude, we've all been there. Nightmares might not be real, but that doesn't mean that we can just act like they don't exist. Believe me, I know all about them," Ignoring Bakugou's raised eyebrow, Kirishina continued, his eyes wandering to find Bakugou's once more. "But, you need to know that we're all there for you- Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and me. I'm here for you."

Silence. It took a while, both boys waiting for the other to speak as they thought. Bakugou knew very well what Kirishina was waiting for, if the question present in his wide eyes wasn't too obvious. But, fuck; he didn't want to think about it. Any of it. So he opted for something else.

"Why are you here?"

The words were quiet, but they were the first ones to break the silence. Kirishima smiled, as if happy that bakugou was finally talking, but he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I was hungry, so I ended up going to the kitchen. I met Iida out there, and, you know how it goes," he says, shrugging.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, both at the suspicion of it, and the fact that he had clearly lied about meeting the other boy out there. It was nearly 3 in the fucking morning. Considering the fact that Iida went to bed around 9, there was no way in hell that that was happening.

"Iida went to sleep hours ago."

The clear challenge in his voice made all questions that he might have had known. Kirishima sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. It was only then Bakugiu realized how close they were to each other. Kirishima was kneeling in front of him, hands fidgeting with his shorts as he searched for an appropriate answer.

"Fine, you caught me." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he spoke, "I heard explosions coming from your room, and I was scared that something was happening to you." Oh, so it turns out people really do have bad reactions to nightmares. So much for that "thinking and staring up at your ceiling" bullshit.

He looked down at his sheets, sighing slightly when he noticed the several burn marks from where his fists had been balled up in his blankets. It wasn't as if he hadn't had a nightmare before, but it was never quite to this extent; it had never felt that real. A rough hand felt it's way into his own, curling around his tense fingers. Bakugou looked up, but didn't pull away.

"Bakugou, are you okay?"

It wasn't the first time that he's been asked that, hell, after the incident, that's all he's ever heard. But, it had never been so sincere, so genuine, that- shit, Bakugou nearly felt the dams break. But no- he couldn't give into it. He couldn't allow himself to seem even weaker. He nodded slowly, squeezing Kirishima's hand in his own, as if another confirmation.

Kirishima smiled slightly, squeezing back. "You good to sleep now?" Bakugou nearly nodded, but the thought of closing his eyes and seeing nothing other than red made him think twice. Sensing his displeasure, Kirishima stood up, nearly yanking Bakugou to his feet when he forgot that their hands were intertwined. He smiled sheepishly, letting go. It was dark, but bakugou could see the hesitancy in Kirishima's face when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Wanna sleep in my room?"

Before he could stop himself, Bakugou nodded, throwing his covers off and onto the floor before he could refuse Kirishima. Kirishima's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected the other boy to give in so easily- or to give in at all. Snatching his pillow and a blanket from the top of his bed, Bakugou stumbled over to Kirishima, seeming far too small at the moment.

Such a reaction was so not Bakugou, that Kirishima wondered what could have gotten him in such a state. Opening his mouth to ask, he pauses as his eyes meet Bakugou's, seeing nothing but uncertainty. The other boys brows were furrowed, uncertain, as if he was thinking about something.

"Hey," He said, a small smile on his face, "let's go." Following Bakugou's nod of confirmation, they wandered to the entrance of Bakugou's room, waiting for Bakugou to lock the door before heading out into the hallway. They only had one other neighbor in the boy's wing, but they didn't want to risk waking him up. Placing a finger on his lips, Kirishima gestured towards Shouji's door, which was located on the other side of Bakugou's room.

Honestly, Bakugou didn't even know why they were bothering to be quiet for, if his explosions hadn't woken him up, there's no way in hell that them walking would. He only shrugged, dragging his blanket across the floor a little quieter than before; he was too drained to protest.

It didn't take long for them to get to Kirishima's room, for they were right next to each other, but Bakugou couldn't help but muse about how different they were. It wasn't the first time that he had been in Kirishima's room, nor had it been the first time that Kirishima had been in his, their study sessions constantly causing them(read: Kirishima) to seek out the help from the other.

Posters lined the walls of Kirishima's room, usually saying stupid things about manliness, or having some sort of relation to either All Might or Crimson riot. A punching bag sat in the corner, worn from overuse, yet it still seemed to be going strong, for Bakugou had seen Kirishima's hands wrapped earlier. (and he hoped that the sounds he heard from Kirishima's bedroom were from his training, because Bakugou didn't know if he could handle the... Alternative.) Honestly, it was all a little ridiculous, but Bakugou found it at least somewhat endearing.

"Come on."

Closing the door behind him, kirishima idled over to the bed- pretty much collapsing into it. Bakugou could only stare as Kirishima was engulfed by his bed, being buried by the numerous amounts of pillows and blankets that donned it. How they all got there, Bakugou didn't know, especially since they were only allowed to bring four boxes worth of items into the dorms. Blinking sleepily, Kirishima lifted his head, eyebrow cocked as he watched bakugou, who remained still in the doorway, blanket clutched around his shoulders.

After a moment, no movement was made from Bakugou, who was still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. God, he hated being this unprepared. But Kirishima only smiled, shaking his head as he hoisted himself up from the tangle of blankets he had somehow managed to sink into.

Leaning over from his bed frame, Kirishima gently took his hand, pretty much pulling him over to his bed and shoved him into it, sliding in next to him when he realized that Bakugou wasn't going to protest. Had he been told about this yesterday, Bakugou would have laughed in the person's face. But nope, here he was, cradled in Kirishima's arms, in Kirishima's bed, at night time. God, if Mina or one of the others happened to walk in on this, the question would be torturous to endure.

"Hey, calm down." Kirishima whispered, his hands coming to feel for Bakugou's own. Rough hands traced over the palms of his own, rubbing comforting little circles into the thick skin. Such an action shouldn't be so endearing, but when it's coming from Kirishima, it's so sincere that it just has to be. Heaving out a sigh, Bakugou settles into the embrace, face pretty much buried into Kirishima's chest as he tries his best to relax. As they lay in silence, Bakugou doesn't close his eyes.

He thinks, thinks of how everything had gone so wrong - so horribly all because of him. He thought about how he had failed All Might, how his actions could have very well lead to the death of the symbol of peace- his hero, all because of his stupid pride. But mostly, he thought about Kirishima.

Red splattered across the concrete as his skin melted away, lips parted in a silent scream as the pain became too much to bear. The blankness within his eyes as Shigaraki pulled away, a crude smirk on his chapped lips. Kirishima could have died because of him. Fuck.

"Oi, shitty hair."

The words were whispered, but as Bakugou clutched himself to Kirishima's chest, they felt big.

"Yeah?" Resting his chin on Bakugou's head, Kirishima answered, an eye cracked open as he watched Bakugou shift from under the blankets.

"Promise me that you'll be okay."

The words were soft, something with a little hesitancy, something that was so not Bakugou- were he knew that the words were sincere. Kirishima opened his mouth to ask where all this was coming from, but he stopped with he felt Bakugou squeeze his hand, as if he was making sure that Kirishima was still there. He seemed so helpless- so lost, that Kirishima couldn't help but comply. He sighs, nestling his face into the top of Bakugou's head.

"I can't promise that I'll be careful. But I promise to be here for you, bro." Bakugou didn't respond to that, but Kirishima felt the way that he relaxed into his hold, lessening the hold on his hand nothing more than a light, warm pressure. Kirishima smiled and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep.

The next morning was.. interesting, say to the least, but Bakugou could definitely get used to waking up in Kirishima's arms.


End file.
